the night our romance died
I slept alone
I finally see why things are the way they are--
my aura is steeped in too much wine
and too many cigarettes,
all the signs of a party
taking a turn for the worse.

I love you because your fingers
smell like cigarettes and taste like salt
and you always look like you're crying
after sex
and you want me because i'm in a downward spiral
and next week i'll be groveling at your feet
if i'm on my knees this week

i make you smile because i get upset
when you tease and say my eyes
are evergreen,
and i can't resist your bare chest

but you'll never induce a smile on these lips,
because you can't love me;
i'm not that kind of girl.
i'm tied to my past
like a ball and chain
and i'll never escape it
unless you can accept it.